Clipped Wings
by Getsuga TENSHOU 15
Summary: "A hundred roses will perish each day, with a dispirited sigh profound from its lips, the wilting, murky hue of its flesh evasive, and with a sheer final blink, a final withered petal is gone. Though a hundred roses may perish each day, the prosper of new life lurks deep beneath the malaised corpses, hushed whispers, if you will, of something far greater to come."
1. Clipped Wings

_A/N: This is a short-short one-shot T rated stalker fic on guardian angel-ness-ism-ness...ness. I'm a writer, I make up words. Enjoy, and IMPORTANT NOTE AT THE END OF IT._

_*holds free box of chibi Ichigo shaped cookies* Cookie, anyone?_

_Story starts below le asterisks._

_Orihime Inoue._

A name is worth a thousand memories, a thousand scenic thoughts cherished in your heart, a thousand reminsces blooming feverently, as the cauldron stirs, the children awake from their slumber, a fresh floret in their eager grasps; akin to a rose, a name begins its journey as a seed, planted in the earth as a simple being, and as the scarlet bud climbs upon its stem, it ascends towards the parting skies, so that one day, it may reach the celestial touch of our divine Father.

The rose may glisten, as the angels above shed precious tears, each tear sculpted from gold, and ripple with fine feathers scattered upon the ground. Others may dance through the lunar smoke shrouding the fields of their home, and battle the darkness with the ultimate traits of light, and prevail as champions to the heavens' above.

A hundred roses will perish each day, with a dispirited sigh profound from its lips, the wilting, murky hue of its flesh evasive, and with a sheer final blink, a final withered petal is gone. Though a hundred roses may perish each day, the prosper of new life lurks deep beneath the malaised corpses, hushed whispers, if you will, of something far greater to come.

And though I have been present to view both life and death to their fullest effect upon my Father's Utopia, I am unafraid to admit, that I have heard one name far too many times than I care for. The name, that beckons me like a siren, enticing me closer with the right sounds, the right words, all positioned perfectly in the right order. I can picture this one rose through clear, supernatural vision. How could I ever forget the mortal love of my life?

Her platinum eyes shaped above her passionately flared cheeks, and the lashes of a goddess, which flicker with the integrity of a burning candle through a lonely, desolate, boxed room. The embered cambers that fall in delicate streams around her silk flesh, framing the porcelain face that _they_ are certain she stole from a doll, before plummeting in cascades, rich with her wild tenacity; flames ad hoc to reflect such stubborn resolve of a fiery redhead. _My _dear fiery pixie.

Andthough none have ever been directed at me, a sheer glimpse of her smile will trigger the belief of a star bursting into flames before your very eyes, as you can do nothing but stiffen in awe, lost in a daze, as you share a deep gaze with the Sun; I've been told, that the frozen of all hearts melt within her sole proximity, combusting with a fuel generated by her choruses sung with vocals stolen from heaven, through the exchange of a simple kiss.

Such beauty in the name itself, in the way it rolls so freely from my bitter spade of a tongue, the delicate shrills that I hear resound through every crack in this god forbidden Earth, so much beauty lingers within the tender thresh-hold, that is one mortal's heart; a heart, forever unrequited from all traces of evil and malice, eternaly soaked in the rich elixir of her ruby-lined blood, a heart, too pure, too innocent for the world to holster. This is a heart of a woman, that has irrefutably won the heart of an angel. An angel with clipped wings, and a halo shattered through the unforgivable acts of his _sin. _A guardian forbidden from his duty, for guarding his true love with his life.

_A/N: MAJOR. FREAKING. FOOT CRAMP! Ow... This is why you don't have thoughts of Ichigo watching you sleep whilst you're trying to sleep D: ...So, hello. Long time no see. Lot of shizzle has gone down, Ichigo is part Quincy, (he better not start dressing like Uryu, or I will cry, and probably disown Tite Kubo), and some more spoilers I shan't ruin for youse, been recovering, and sleeping. God dammit, I love to sleep. But anywho, been reading a lot, and if you follow my DeviantArt, (PLEASE FOLLOW MY DEVIANTART D: name is DEMONIC-RICOCHET), you'll know I've been getting into poetry and photoshop. _

_Anywho, I cringe when I think about people reading my stuff now, but I promise, I will do more chapters on all of my stories, based on whether you guys think this is good for a terribly short one-shot. This one-shot hereby determines whether or not my ability to write hath return-ey-eth-ed-ed. (Again. I'm a writer!) I'll probably write it better later when I'm less sleepy, I'm suffering from the plague, (by which I mean a cold), right about now D:_

_Anywho, hope you enjoyed, and guys review please! I need to know whether or not to feel cringey about my work or not! Plus I'm OCD with numbers, and having a story with 0 reviews will sorta make me go crazeh :) So even if it is only one person, believe me, it's better than nothing!_

_Thanks again!_

_*hold box of chibi Ichigo shaped cupcakes* Cupcake, anyone?_


	2. Clockwork Parole

_A/N: So I've decided, this will be a series of poems and diary entries from Ichigo, le guardian angel, throughout the many different lifetimes he's spent watching over her. 'Cause she's special, she gets reincarnations and past lives, and stuff, so each time she's reborn, he reappears. Everytime she died, he's well gutted. But she can't ever see him, either way, she doesn't even know he exists. Poor Ichi-chan. So, anywhose, this is from her past life in the Victorian days, but it's mixed with some Shakespeare/Elizabethan terms, 'cause I love 'em both. WARNING: You may need a thesaurus. So serial. I needed one to write this dayum thing D:_

A crown for a leaf through fair crystal orbs  
A brio once clarion, now faint, hushed  
Much like her heart, mere murmurs in corpse  
A weep, a snivel, a bleat from her blushed

Parted cheeks; and a quivering sobbed mewl  
Wilting mourning stars, shed feathers and tears  
A shilling for a glimpse 'pon blustered jewels  
Withered locks aflame once pious adheres

Strewn fruitless vines veer 'pon thine crown's pillow  
And the dust shaded lids flicker; flames parched  
A crest adorned with sheer petal, black willow  
Vows I cast to thee, as angels cast arched

And though I know with such an ilk pious  
Pertained to the parted heavens confirm  
My illusive firm faith adrift with biased  
Smoke and ash bechance, render me infirm

I pray for thee, prithee, I plead, t'our Lord  
There is life yet in this transpired soul  
For the pure flesh and blood, now splintered sword  
For her breast to cease her clockwork parole

For the diamonds to shower pallid skin  
Ivory sheets to adorn her visage  
My God, bid me my remission of sin  
The light of her grimace, guise of mirage

Descry! Descry! Oh, describe her front piece  
Facet of features that finish her masque  
The pouts 'pon her lips surface cerise  
Though her rose blushes do shy from death mask

Bid me my bargain, sell me my own lie  
Bid me my quandary, sell me my palter  
To earn back my bairn, my defiance nigh  
Bring thine wrath: this body will not falter

_A/N: Ichi-chan is philosophical and poetic like me! :)_


	3. Silent Service

_A/N: I'm sorry I can't make this into a story, I'll try, but this is the sort of thing that if another person wrote about it, I'd read it cry, and then hate them for the rest of my life, 'cause they managed to make me cry. So, yeah, I don't wanna make people sad with how sad the whole plot line to it is._

It takes a callous man to conjure up a callous curse upon a crimeless mortal

For the herbal essence of your desire, the fissures of my wounds trigger my abyss

The insanity of my rift, though with swift guard, clouds part with the portal

The faintest flame ventures through the storms, a flame that ignites my reminisce

The insecurity of your charm, as my shackles, my chains, my tethers

Fade to black; My torso bare in the eclipse of my infinite, bottomless jail

My wings, once clipped, remains with mere bones and streaming black feathers

For the birth of my love, I await, though ail

I close my eyes, and I see your elven face, painted across the silent canvas of the spiral skies

The stars grimace, envious, as your blushes arise upstage from their source

And though, for now, I perch, and embrace the earth on this unearthly guise

Neither a shred nor shrapnel I feel impale me, not a sliver of remorse

For even if I were to retire from my immutable chase

My ageless venery of this broken orbit

The second these lunging eyes shadow a glimpse of your shying grace

My heart, though frozen, void from your warmth, stumbles; and it is here, that my sins acquit

I may await a century or two for your return to this Earth

Or decades, seconds, a moment perhaps

For the restoration of my unrequited beloved's spiritual rebirth

A thousand unbroken millennia may elapse

And I shall hear the sonata of each second tick by each eve

And here, I'll remain, in perpetuum, your soul kinship to my heart

My ivory flesh a canvas for markings and scars, I lie here awake, await for them to conceive

And when they do, my love, I promise you this: all other art

Will once again be put to shame

With the flawless beauty of your demeanour

And the tempest charisma of your soul untamed

And I may also promise that none else shall be keener

To witness the flaws and features that adorns your sleek clock piece

All I am, all I have, all I am to be- a sheer evanescent guard

As you grow, all love I have will augment caprice

And though my heart may forever remain in charred shards

When you cry, I will hold you in my arms, and I shall take my share of your tears

When you smile, I will embrace you, and I shall not hold back my reveres

When you are lonely, I will hold your hand in mine, and brush away your fears

Wherever you are, and whatever you're feeling. Oh, my Hime. I will always be here


	4. Veteran Sin

Herald upon these tempest skies tonight  
And the silent gaze of a guardian  
You shall meet; See these stars that burn alight  
Each shimmer and shine is a blink of mine

Oh, my love, how I pray for salvation from this torture  
And the lucid mists that part, I embrace  
So that I may grasp upon hope or clarity  
So that one day, you may glimpse upon your angel's face

The evanescent light that guides you through  
Shallow whispers in the dark  
And though I find your body comatose in dew  
A rose I will forever find

A rose imprisoned in your fumbled heart  
A heart bruised and restitched to a merchant's degree  
Love this virgin vessel hath never known  
Black threads bind crimson blood, a sea

Of rubies that glisten in radiant faith of love  
A fountain of shame descends 'pon my frozen vessel  
Though for you to perceive, I would give plenty enough  
Should you glimpse upon my visage just once

Just once, my love, should you picture your angel  
With the bruised, beaten scars of veteran sin  
And the clipped wings burning, raven feathers wilt  
I would give my life, to touch radiant skin


	5. Auburn

Oh, frozen tears from the heavens above  
Stream in shattered shards with the mourning dove  
Glistening prey with a hollow call  
And with the withering feathers, I am enthralled  
As through the sorrow, a spotlight lusters  
With the auburn beauty, cold cheeks in flusters  
Meek and soft, blinking at the sky in a dazed awe  
A marigold statue with neither hitch nor flaw  
Orbs an angel would grant upon a blessed child  
A luminance of honey, rippled bliss beguiled  
Winds tug against the sleek strands buried  
Under the silken scalp, billows and carried  
And the ivory robes streaming with a tale of an unrequited flame  
I watch her in shivers, though engulfed in shame  
Though the unwilling allegiance of her heart and a man she regards  
Not her true love; innocence beckons en garde  
Such diamond beauty that glimmers a golden enchantment in frost  
My love for her soul shall only augment; embellished; embossed


	6. Chapter 1 of story format

A/N: I decided to TRY and turn this into a story. As requested, I have shortened my sentences. I agree, I noticed I was using the word 'as' too many times in one go. I shall now only use the word 'as' once in a sentence, unless the 'as' goes with 'as though'. I kept the poems in the previous chapters because people seemed to like them, but the story starts back at the introduction, with "a name is worth blahblahblah".

Big note! Feedback is highly appreciated for this story. I have no idea where it is going, so send ideas for if you think it takes too long to get into, if you hated it or loved it, and what you might like to see in future. This story is the first one I'm writing for you guys, so I'd like to try and write in things YOU want happening, without sounding like a crap writer with no ideas. Disclaimer: Bleach no belong to me. That is why this is a fanfiction. It is a fiction… of something I am a fan of…

It starts off slow with no real plot or speech, just Ichigo whining about life. And sitting out in the rain wearing a black hoodie as he does so.

Rated T for now, unless you want lemons, then it'll change to Rated M.

_Orihime Inoue_…

A name is worth a thousand memories, a thousand scenic thoughts cherished in your heart, a thousand reminisces blooming feverently. As the cauldron stirs, the children awake from their slumber, a fresh floret in their eager grasps; akin to a rose, a name begins its journey as a seed, planted in the earth as a simple being, and as the scarlet bud climbs upon its stem, it ascends towards the parting skies, so that one day, it may reach the celestial touch of our divine Father.

The rose may glisten, as the angels above shed precious tears, each tear sculpted from gold, and ripple with fine feathers scattered upon the ground. Others may dance through the lunar smoke shrouding the fields of their home, and battle the darkness with the ultimate traits of light, and prevail as champions to the heavens above.

A hundred roses will perish each day, with a dispirited sigh profound from its lips. The wilting, murky hue of its flesh turns evasive, and with a sheer final blink, a final withered petal is gone. Though a hundred roses may perish each day, the prosper of new life lurks deep beneath the malaised corpses, hushed whispers, if you will, of something far greater to come.

And though I have been present to view both life and death to their fullest effect upon my Father's Utopia, I hold no fear to admit, that I have heard one name far too many times than I care for. The name that beckons me like a siren, enticing me closer with the right sounds, the right words, all positioned perfectly in the right order. I can picture this one rose through clear, supernatural vision. How could I ever forget the mortal love of my life?

Her platinum eyes shaped above her passionately flared cheeks, and the lashes of a goddess, which flicker with the integrity of a burning candle through a lonely, desolate, boxed room. The embered cambers that fall in delicate streams around her silk flesh, framing the porcelain face that they are certain she stole from a doll, before plummeting in cascades, rich with her wild tenacity; oh, such flames ad hoc to reflect the stubborn resolve of a fiery redhead. My dear fiery pixie. Yet innocence reigns through this name.

And though none have ever been directed at me, a sheer glimpse of her smile will trigger the belief of a star bursting into flames before your very eyes. You can do nothing but stiffen in awe, lost in a daze, as you share a deep gaze with the Sun; I've been told, that the frozen of all hearts melt within her sole proximity, combusting with a fuel generated by her choruses sung with vocals stolen from heaven, through the exchange of a simple kiss.

Such beauty in the name itself, in the way it rolls so freely from my bitter spade of a tongue; the delicate shrills that I hear resound through every crack in this god forbidden Earth, so much beauty lingers within the tender thresh-hold, that is one mortal's heart. A heart, forever unrequited from all traces of evil and malice, eternally soaked in the rich elixir of her ruby-lined blood, a heart, too pure, too innocent for the world to holster. This is a heart of a woman, which has irrefutably won the heart of an angel. An angel with clipped wings, and a halo shattered through the unforgivable acts of his sin. A guardian forbidden from his duty, for committing the heinous crime of guarding his true love, and guarding her with his life.

As a fallen soul, I am punished in this eternal prison; and though I am free to roam the Earth as I please, I find myself waiting in this very spot, until I am given the sign that my beloved is born. I spend my nights how I spend my days, perched anxiously in the shadows while I await her arrival into this world; I blink up at the skies parting with a faint whisper blowing through the breeze, thunder rumbling with a deep growl, lightning flashing and striking the ground nearby. Rain had been plummeting down in liquid shards for many hours by now, clear droplets streaming across the burnt-orange strands at my skull; my chest rises and falls gently beneath the layers of black, as I lower my head to study the streets before me.

I couldn't tell you what year it is. I lost track of time centuries ago. For centuries, I looked down at the Earth and marvelled in the flawless beauty of day and night, praising my Father for his relentless motivation to craft a perfect world. I could lie, and say that no imperfections lay on Earth, but if that were the case, then an ex-angel of the highest order wouldn't be reduced to enduring the storms and rainfall, like a stray cat perched on a fence. Streetlamps flickered like a dozen candles in an orderly chorus, bathing the boulevards with an unearthly amber glow; the flames danced through the concrete paths and roads, though the embers were soon out-staged by a far more natural and beautiful light.

Clouds swept away from their previous position concealing the moon, and I found myself lifting my gaze once more; as part of my punishment, _they_ mock me with omens. Over centuries of living in this cycle, I've learnt the ins and outs of each omen, the only hobby I could take up seeing as no human could track my presence. And back in the days when I once was an optimistic young creature, I had studied the patterns of her rebirth, in hope that I'd find a loophole of some sort. Alas, there was no escape. I'd learnt quite quickly that after her death, _they_ would return her to me after, (on average), a century, and I'd noticed that she had been born at night-time ever since her first life. The moon would glimmer and beam brighter for a split second, and snowflakes would sink from the heavens.

I became simply mesmerized by the growing shafts of light projected from the lunar orb, holding my breath as I prayed to no one for the omen to come true once more; as a fallen soul, I was stripped of all angel features- my wings and my halo- but some features remained, like enhanced senses and an eternal life-span. I couldn't die, and even if I could, I wouldn't dare. Had I been deprived of my angel eyes, I would have been certain that they were deceiving me, or that I was slowly losing my mind to my demons over time. I watch as the faintest gleams shimmer against the backdrop of the midnight canvas, sleek mists forming lucid vines to shroud the star-scattered canvas; the city bathed in a now luminous white light, the midnight sky glinting a thousand shades of the deepest kind, reflecting the light to spotlight two distant lovers, separated from the warm embrace of their other half. The stars blazed so brightly, each clustered constellation like a million fires compacted into the form of one flame, showering sparks of light so pure, it was as if the midnight sky was in truth the hollow floorboards of Heaven.

I felt my still heart pumping slowly, warmth dispersing through me as though a beacon had been lit by the presence of hers, reaching for my hand to guide her through yet another lifetime. This century's wait was over. Commence step two of punishment: watching the rose grow, knowing that she may never perceive me, she may never remember me, and worse… knowing that she may never _love_ me.


	7. Chapter 2 of story format

There is one phenomenon I can place no logic nor pattern behind with my punishment. Whether it was that _they_ caught on to what I was doing planning tactics against the patterns I found each lifetime, and wished to confuse me. Or whether _they_ simply wished to mock me with the power that they held over her life and my existence.

There was a time two centuries ago, my love held the ability to track me with her senses, allowing all other humans the capability to see and hear me along with her. With this, we both suffered an even greater deal, whether it was coincidence she passed soon away, or whether _they_ had planned her death after exactly a year since laying her eyes upon me. I'd watched her as I would usually do so until the day of her death, keeping close in the shadows so that there was no possibility I would be caught. I had witnessed five birthdays, making the eventful day she could see me her sixth, and sadly, the last she would celebrate in her lifetime.

After centuries of research, I took the guess that she could never see me with her own eyes, and whilst I was alone in the manor's gardens, began to pluck roses with my own hands, disregarding the harrowing pain shooting through my veins as I bled; my plan was to craft a crown for my princess, and rest it upon her dresser before dusk, that was before fate began to take matters into its own callous hands.

(Flashback: No point of view. Might confuse people but "him" is Ichigo.)

"Hi..." The meek voice startled him from his day-dream, dragging him back to reality with a harsh tug. He was in shock, needless to say, shifting his gaze to the young girl wrapping her arm around a plush bear, suckling against the thumb on her free hand. Auburn hair seemed to glisten in the sunlight, smooth and sleek at her scalp, but falling into a cascade of rich sugar curls at her cheeks and shoulders. Glints of light glazed her pupils with the hope of a new friend, as the reflective cherry blossoms continued to scatter under the light, floating softly towards the ground.

Everything about her was perfect. Her cerise lips pouted around her thumb, cheekbones flared a rose tinted colour, blushes creeping across her smooth flesh as she shied behind the comfort of her bear. Her dress was distinctly rich in both colour and fabric, a scarlet silk and satin constructing a billowing gown that cut off mid-way between her knee and ankle, white stockings concealing what was visible of her lower legs; puffed sleeves sheltered her shoulders, and on the front of the gown lay straps for a pinafore and apron, complete with oversized buttons that gleamed a gold shade. White ruffles adorned her neck and hem of the dress, decorated with gold thread in alternating strokes; across the crimson was a barely visible cluster of _Fleur de Lis_, a trait he could only possibly detect with his supernatural vision. She looked six, maybe seven years old in this lifetime, yet she still held the features of a beautiful porcelain doll.

"You can see me?" He breathed as he stared at her in doubt, his lips trembling as a hand reached out and clutched his cheek; from his position perched on the grass, she made it easy to match his height with her short stature. His hands froze from his crown-building activity, refusing to take her hands in his due to the thorns piercing his skin and the blood that streamed from his fingertips. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't see him, hear him, feel him, or sense him in any way, nor could any other human being, that was his punishment... and yet there she stood, her blinks indicating a not-so distant thought train as she typically held in previous lifetimes. Her palm felt warm against his frozen skin, an act you would expect to trigger the cries of pain from the young girl, for her to pull away from the ice-cold flesh, but instead she kept her hand in place, warming the flesh of his cheeks.

"C-can you hear me?" She nodded slowly in response, continuing to blink at irregular intervals as though focussing her attention on trying to figure out just where she knew him from. Was it possible that she was remembering? Was his torture finally over? No... That couldn't be it. This phenomenon may never have a logical explanation behind it, but he would treasure it whilst he could. After all, the omens had been there to predict her death at some point in the following year. "Inoue..."

"Lady Inoue, I have asked you many times! Please do not run away like that!" His head snapped up at the motherly voice sounding from meters behind his beloved, breathing out a sigh as he could see how well looked after she'd been in his absence. "Something terrible could have happened to you, My Lady! What would your mother or father do without their special princess?" The girl simply blinked up at her nanny, her hand slipping from his cheek as she turned her gaze, the warmth breaking at the loss of contact. "Come now, Lady Inoue, we must return to the ballroom. It is a young lady's sixth birthday today! Why, that is exciting, is it not?" Her voice was laced with an ersatz mirth, one that adults would usually take on to encourage young children.

"I don't like them." He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, concentrating on the flame of her inner soul, whose light was slowly fading. His eyes opened in time to see the older woman place her hands on the hips of her broad brown skirt, taking on the role of a strict mother.  
"Inoue, we do not say "don't" in this household, now do we? You have been brought up to speak proper, not in some broken English you pick up from your urchin _friends._ You are almost at the age to marry, and your father has been kind enough to let you choose a man for yourself!" He raised his eyebrow at the woman's comment, noticing Orihime's lower lip tremble, her eyes filling with tears as they rested on the brink of her eyelashes.

"Are you kidding me? She's 6, why the hell are you making her act so grown up?" His voice spoke of its own accord, cursing himself silently for his outburst as her seething gaze settled upon him. "If she doesn't wanna marry, then how can you force her? She ain't ready for that yet, just look at her..." He paused to gesture towards her, sobs escaping her system as a stubborn tear broke through her defences. "She's meant to be out playing with her "urchin" friends, not having her life dictated to her by people who know _nothing_ about her," _Not like I do_…  
"How I bring up the child placed in my care is of no concern to you. Now please, Lady Inoue, silence your tears, and come with me."

Orihime sniffed quietly, clutching tighter against her bear as she used her free hand to wipe away her tears; lowering her gaze to the ground, her blemished cheeks became curtained by the thick strands of hair, shielding her from the outside world. The woman's eyes narrowed impatiently, and Ichigo returned the scowl while picking the thorns from his hands; he rose to his knees and knelt before the girl, the crown in hand as he hushed her cries, lifting her head as he cupped her cheeks gently.

"Lady Inoue, was it?" He knew the answer in his heart, but still, it would be better for her sanity and his reputation to act as though he'd never met her before. She nodded meekly, her lips parted as the sobs continued to break through her system. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" He recited the answer to himself in his head, repeating her name as the only clue.  
"A princess," He smiled at her shy voice, as a chorus of bells pealed through the atmosphere with each syllable she spoke. He lifted the crown in his hands, splaying it across his palm as he presented it to her.

"Would you like to be a princess today, and for the rest of your life?" He held back the chokes rising in his throat as he finished the bitter sentence, knowing she had a year maximum.  
"For me?" A gentle grin grew across his lips, watching as she stretched her fingers out gingerly, as though afraid of cutting her dainty fingertips should any thorns remain.  
"Don't worry, princess, I clipped away all the thorns. I won't let anything harm you." He swallowed the lie, cursing himself for letting it slip through the cracks of truth. He watched as the crown lay perfectly around the circumference of her head, pleased he got the measurements right after centuries of his absence. The crown was built of a mixture of carmen and lily-white roses, the thorn less stalks woven into strands of grass and hay, skimming across the centre of her forehead where the curls sprung free.

"Now, promise me you'll never take this off, promise me that you'll remain a princess forever," His voice remained akin to a warm-hearted guardian, smiling as her slender eyebrows creased, knitting together with confusion.

"Won't the pretty flowers die?" He shook his head and let his lips curve up into a smile, stroking aside strands of hair that began to cling to her cheeks in the faint breeze passing through.  
"No, princess, the flowers won't ever die. I preserved them especially for you. This is your birthday gift from me to you," He pressed his lips against her cheek flaring, a kiss from a mere guardian to the child he protects; the warmth of her skin stitched the promises he knew would soon break to the guilt of his conscience screaming within him. He didn't care. He would rather lie to his love, to keep up the pretence, to spare her the pain of her coming demise.

-1 Year Later- (Ichigo's Point of View)

The service had gone smoothly to my mind; the flowers had arrived, the caterers turned up, and there was a bustling crowd who'd shown up clad in a shade of mourning black, watching as the skies grew dull and gray. With a faint rumble ricocheting from the shadow-casted heavens, snowflakes began to curl from the sky; and, similarly to a glacial whirlpool scattering frozen blooms, overwhelmed the streets with the purity of a lost soul making its departure from Earth.

The bulk of the frozen skies unlocked the inaudible gasps of the citizens; eager infants, smiling as the same words became chanted incessantly, echoing through the blanketing veils billowing through the sky. Bare palms reached out to touch the feather-light flakes unfurling from the Heavens, as embers of ice scattered across the cemetery, pirouetting like gliders with a distinct sense of grace. The blossoms warmed the nation with an ironically glacial embrace, and I sensed the angels unfold their wings as they awoke from their drowsed state. Stretching from their slumber, their saccharine voices sung throughout the cemetery, bells beckoning the tenacious ticking, before the truth became told amongst the population. The clock towers rung out in harmony, calling the respect of a moment's silence to embrace the crowd who'd arrived to bid my princess farewell.

I watched from the side-lines, catching a glimpse of her corpse before the coffin closed for good… for this lifetime. The artists tried their best to cover her scars with make-up, and for a human, it was a fool-proof plan, but for a man with angel eyes, I could see every cut, scar and crater embedded on her skin. It was the scarlet fever that took her in this life, you see. The crown I'd made for her rested against her forehead, as she'd promised me, not a single flower bent or withered, as I had promised her. She lay in a rich white silk gown, purity embracing her even upon her death bed, her slim fingers locked against her stomach. I frowned at the void in her hands, slipping a freshly clipped tiger lily into her grasp. She'd always loved tiger lilies, and with the tranquil expression that rests upon her face, I'm certain that she would have loved them in this life too.

I suppose, in the past year, I've learnt something new about the cycle; once her heart stops beating, no human can track me in their senses, almost as if she was some sort of mechanism allowing others to perceive me while she could. That was what allowed me to slip through the crowds effortlessly, and grant her the kiss on the cheek she deserves for her bravery. Scarlet fever is no mean feat; it took strength and courage to keep going as long as she did, features that are simply admirable in a child of such a young age. To have her life taken away so quickly… it's wrong for her to be punished by my side. I hope this isn't a running theme, though; I pray to no one that not every time her senses awaken to my presence will grant me with as short a time with her than this. For her to die so young, so frail, so impossibly pale. A true goddess, whose heart and beauty is captured and frozen in time. And after a year of mental torture... My punishment begins again. As will the cycle of her life in a century's time.

A/N: Tiger lilies are orange, like Orihime's and Ichigo's hair.

They were a popular flower in the Victorian era, when this is set.

They symbolize feminine principles such as mercy, compassion, kindness and unconditional love.

Also symbolize female courage, and is a good flower to carry down the aisle at a wedding in a bouquet because it symbolizes personal wealth and career success.

The bright orange also symbolizes joy productivity and pride.

They are very easy to grow, a little like Orihime. _"Tiger lilies are very easy to grow, and once you cut off one blossom another one quickly replaces it."_ Orihime dies, and then she is reborn, but there is always anywhere between a 50-100 year gap between her death and her rebirth, so that fate can find the right genes, because she always looks the same, and because that leaves Ichigo hanging around for a longer amount of time, hence his punishment is stretched out.

Tiger lilies are seen as quite aggressive flowers, because they can easily take over the garden. Orihime has a short temper to her, as Ichigo mentioned; she's a fiery little pixie.


End file.
